


Darkness Visible

by pissedofsandwich



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, Set directly after CoLS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:52:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedofsandwich/pseuds/pissedofsandwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During their encounter, Maureen tells Alec a couple of interesting things that may change Alec's life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness Visible

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I would get over page 511, but I won’t. I’m fatally wounded, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up. I’m dying to read CoHF (even if it will definitely kill me), and I just can’t anymore with all these ‘your-boyfriend’s-dead’ theories. I had to write something, even if it ended up being monstrous and disastrous. I do apologize for any grammatical mistake, my first language isn’t English. It’s set directly after the end of CoLS. Hope you like! Leave your thoughts here. I do encourage con-crits and all that. :)
> 
> Also, I don't own TMI. If I did, page 511 wouldn't have happened.
> 
> Title taken from City of Ashes.

“So—someone killed her?” Alec sounded genuinely shocked, as if he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Camille was dead—or killed by someone. Maureen glanced at the glowing seraph blade. She assumed he was hoping to kill the older vampire himself. Oh boy, she really was sorry to disappoint— _except,_ not really.

Camille had told him he would come. The vampire’s last words seemed to echo in her ears like bad music. _Soon, a boy with long, dancer-like legs and eyes bluer than the ocean will come. He will seek for me. He will want to kill me. But he won’t find me; he’ll find you instead. And he will kill you._ And Camille had been right; the boy _did_ come.

She burst into a happy peal of laughter. “Not just _someone_ , silly,” she said. “It was me.”

The silence encompassing them was pregnant. The Shadowhunter blinked, lowering his seraph blade to his side. Its name was Amriel, if she wasn’t mistaken. Alec locked her gaze with hers, a look of pure astonishment evident on his face. The young vampire felt a little offended at that. Was the thought of a newly-turned vampire like her killing someone as ancient as Camille so unthinkable that he had to look that baffled? Dazedly, resting her head on her palm, Maureen ogled the Shadowhunter. There was nothing particularly dazzling about him, she thought. He was very tall, with dancer-like legs—just like how Camille had described him—and he had a good posture. Not too skinny or overly built. His hair was black, and he let it grow too long for her liking, nearly touching his collar and covering his eyes. But his eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, their color stood out startlingly against the darkness. Maureen decided he was not ugly; good-looking, but not all that stunningly attractive—just plain good-looking.

“That’s…impressive,” Alec said. Maureen could tell he didn’t really mean it.

She smiled sweetly at him, baring her fangs. He didn’t flinch. She was a little disappointed. But then again, this boy was a Shadowhunter. He must have dealt with her kind on what she called daily basis. She felt her smile growing wider. She giggled into her hands. “I’m very flattered,” she said, but she didn’t thank him.

“Why did you kill her?” Alec demanded.

Maureen inclined her head, putting a finger on her chin and furrowed her eyebrows in mock thinking. “Oh, I don’t know,” Maureen replied. “Maybe I just feel like it.”

Alec scowled, clearly wasn’t satisfied with her answer. But then again, he always seemed to be scowling most of the time. And it wasn’t like Maureen was here to satisfy him, anyway. She flashed him a huge grin. “You’re a newly turned vampire,” Alec summarized. “And you killed Camille just because _maybe you feel like it_.” Alec could feel a headache coming.

Maureen nodded a little too eagerly. “That’s true.”

Alec stared at her. She couldn’t be older than fourteen, sixteen at most. She hadn’t been a vampire for more than a couple of weeks, and here she was, perched on the elegant velvet sofa with a curving, glided back that used to be Camille’s place. From what he gathered, Camille was one of the oldest, strongest vampires to exist. To have a newly-born vampire like Maureen killed her… He couldn’t help feeling shocked. He raised his blazing seraph blade, its sharp edge pointing at her. “You’re a rogue vampire.”

“So I’ve been told,” she agreed. “You know, someone from the Praetor Lupus came to me the other day. Told me he wanted to help me. His name was Nick, I think.” As an afterthought, she added with a chuckle, “He was pretty handsome.”

Alec blinked. “ _Was_?”

“Oh,” she giggled. It was a happy sound, but there was a sheer coldness to it. It sent a shiver down his spine. “He came to me after I killed—,” she trailed off, holding up her hand, “—about one, two, three, _dozen_ humans! But he’s dead now.” Her voice was dangerously calm. The smile that was still plastered on her face caused her to look harmless and innocent. “I killed him three days ago.”

Alec did a double take. Three days ago? That meant she killed a Praetor _and_ a very powerful vampire in less than a week. His head started to pound, but he ignored it. Just like how he ignored the hollow in his chest where his heart had been broken and ripped out of his soul—or tried to, at least. “A rogue vampire,” he repeated.

Maureen produced an annoyed sound. “You’ve said that twice,” she rolled her eyes. “So what if I’m a rogue vampire? What are you going to do? Are you going to kill me?” _Kill me like Camille promised?_

Alec wished he had Jace’s “socializing” skill or Isabelle’s wit. If Jace was here, he would’ve been able to talk back to Maureen, cracked a joke or two, making snarky remarks about vampires. But Jace wasn’t here; he was in the Institute, healing slowly, and containing Heavenly Fire. He scrambled for something to say—something intelligent, something sarcastic or Shadowhunter-like—but he couldn’t find any. So he uttered nothing, readying his seraph blade, his blue eyes completely focused on Maureen’s slender body.

“Your face completely changed,” Maureen observed. “You looked like a kicked puppy just a few moments ago, and now you look like you want to kill me. Oh, wait!” She clasped her hands in exaggerated surprise. “That’s what you’re going to do, is that not? You want to kill me.” She sounded overly cheerful, which concerned him.

“I don’t want to,” Alec corrected her. “I _have_ to kill you.”

“Is there a different?” Maureen examined her nails, pondering. They were painted red—like blood. He tried to imagine her dipping her fingers in a pool of blood—Camille’s blood—and smiled that huge smile that made her look completely human, pleased with what she’d done. But the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Alec grimaced. “You will kill me anyway.” She stood up, brushing the non-existent dust from the back of her jeans. “Well,” she turned at Alec, her smile widening, if that was even possible. “Not if I kill you first, at least.”

And then she charged.

* * *

Alec had fought vampires before—he’d even fought _Camille_. He was familiar with them. Vampires moved with grace, fast and treacherous, their fangs snapping outward, with hunger written all over their face. It was stunning in a dangerously strange way, he thought as Maureen flung herself on him. She attacked and he jumped backward, ducking away while slashing. Maureen made a pained hissing sound, and when Alec looked up he saw blood running down her arm. She swore and lunged for him. Her movement was uncoordinated; Alec couldn’t predict her next attack. He felt her scratching at him, feeling the warm blood trickling from the cut on his cheek, the front of his shirt torn. Some of the blood dropped to her hand, and she laughed hysterically. She licked her hand clean.

“You taste nice,” she claimed. “Like strawberries.”

Alec barely had a time to jerk aside from her next attack. He slashed at her, but she was faster. She spun around and one second she was soaring, and the next she was on him, her knees digging into his chest, her nails cutting through the skin of his shoulder. Her nails were sharp and knife-like. His seraph blade swung off his hand and clattered to the ground. Maureen kicked it away, smiling manically down at him. Alec scowled. If she thought it would be this easy to end him, she was wrong.

Alec struggled, rolling across dirty floor with her laughing in between her shrieks, slashing at him with her nails. Alec caught a hold of her tiny wrists and she screamed in horror as he held her down between his legs, her eyes rounding. His eyes searched the room for his seraph blade, suddenly wanting to finish this as fast as he could and curl up in the Institute, probably wallowing in self-pity. Maureen kept screaming and slashing at him. The front of his shirt was ruined now, and he spared a moment to look down at it, realizing it belonged to Magnus.

Well, look at the bright side. At least I won’t have to return this shirt, Alec thought bitterly.

Sensing his guard down, Maureen took advantage of the moment to switch their position. Alec—distracted and taken aback—found his body pinned to the ground with the girl’s knees digging into his chest, her sharp nails cutting through the skin of his shoulders. She was surprisingly light for a vampire, but with the weight of her pressed down on his chest, Alec found it hard to breathe. He tried not to wince.

“Got ya,” Maureen murmured in a sweet voice. Alec’s scowl deepened. She heaved out a theatrical sigh. “I don’t get why you Shadowhunters never smile. You are attractive bunch…”

Alec pretended to be listening, but his eyes were wild as it scanned the whole room for his blade. It was lying not too far from him, but with his current position, he couldn’t reach it. He’d need to distract her a little. Everything can be a weapon, he remembered. And most importantly, remember that you are a weapon. He clenched his fist and brought it down on her face, hard enough to break a mundane’s nose. She swore, crying out a set of colorful, filthy words that were very unladylike. Alec kicked her off him and momentarily felt guilty for kicking a barely teenage girl, but he shrugged off the feeling and reminded himself she’d killed many people and grabbed his seraph blade. He swung to face her, and he found that she was already on her feet. She looked very annoyed.

He vaguely recalled fighting Camille here, which now seemed like ages ago. He remembered her screaming at the sun glaring down on her, feeling her arms bubbling up with heat, remembered how he seized her hands and threatened to ash her if she didn’t give him what he wanted: answers. Her eyes had danced like flickering flames, dangerous and manipulative and tempting. You can take Magnus’ mortality away. Suddenly, he felt himself raging with hate—hate for Camille, hate for Magnus, hate for himself. How could he be so stupid? Magnus had warned him. Camille was the master at manipulation and politics. There was no way she would be willing to bargain with him. Camille wouldn’t keep her mouth shut, she wasn’t someone to be trusted, and yet—

He should’ve known. He was such an idiot.

He remembered what Magnus had said to him the first time they met. _You are totally without guile. I feel like everything you say is straightforward._ And then, earlier that day, the warlock had caught him lying to his face. _Not so straightforward, then_. A voice at the back of his mind taunted. _I wonder how he’s feeling right now. He must be pretty miserable—and he must hate you. A lot._

A scream pulled him out of his reverie. Maureen was in front of him, her fangs flashing. Alec barely had a time to draw his blade. He jumped sideways, slashing with his seraph blade, aiming it at her neck. She moved fast, and he missed, his blade barely grazing her. He wished he had his bow and arrow with him; he excelled at archery. Maureen wailed and launched herself at him. She moved like a whirlwind, swift as the wind and uncontrollable.

The last time he fought Camille, he’d been able to fend her off with the help of daylight. But the light here was wavering and dim, the sun barely there, if not completely covered by the dark winter clouds. Maureen went for him again with incredible speed. He struck her with his seraph blade and she gave a cry of agony, staggering backward with her hand over her stomach. He had meant to punctuate her lungs—not that she actually needed them to breathe—but had missed by a few centimeters. With a startling breath he realized that had been the spot where Amatis had buried her dark dagger in Magnus. A few inches higher and Amatis would have killed him—and what the hell was he doing, thinking about Magnus when he had a more important matter at hand? Why did everything seem to lead back to him? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about him? Why did he keep asking himself questions he didn’t have answers for? As he stalked down the mezzanine stairs, he’d thought he’d pushed the image of Magnus walking away with one thought, and one only: _to kill Camille_. But now he couldn’t stop thinking about him, the guilt and hurt still eating away at him.

He tried to not think about him, but it was like his face was printed on the back of his eyelids every time he blinked. He was all he saw when he—

Alec fell with his head first. He was dizzy and slightly disoriented; his back hurt where it had hit the ground so harshly. He tried to raise his seraph blade, but Maureen knocked it away, hissing. His head was pounding, and the world was spinning like he was seeing it from a carousel. Magnus made him ride on one when they paid an amusement park a visit.

_Oh, by the Angel._ His inner voice sounded annoyed. _You’re going to be bitten by a vampire, and all you can think about is Magnus?_

_Yes?_ He thought back at his inner self, and then scolded himself for being unbearably ridiculous.

Maureen brought her hands down before Alec could stop her. She placed them neatly on either side of Alec’s neck, and bent down, as if to kiss him. The last thing he remembered was the small voice at the back of his head howling at him (you are a total disgrace, Alec Lightwood!) before the vampire girl gave a sickening grin and sank her fangs to his neck.

* * *

When he’d found out that Isabelle and Simon had slept in the same bed at Magnus’, he had noticed a few things, like how Simon looked fresh—his cheeks, while remarkably pale, not at all paper-like and he looked healthy, like a vampire who had just fed—and how an iratze was drawn hastily on his sister’s neck. He was intrigued, and he tried to list the possible things that could have occurred to them overnight. It was obvious that Simon had fed—but from who? The only possible candidate was Isabelle. But would Isabelle have let him?

Simon wouldn’t dare to hurt Izzy. If he’d forced her, Isabelle would probably have gutted him or threw him out of the window. She would have screamed, and he would have heard her. But he didn’t recall anyone screaming that night—which led him to conclude that Isabelle had likely been willing to let him drink her blood. Intrigued, he’d been tempted to ask, but he shut his mouth and kept silent. He’d wondered how it felt like to have a vampire sucking off your blood, not that he would ever admit it. He was just curious was all—curious in the way a five years old boy wanted to know why the sky was blue and not green. Alec had tried inquiring one of Camille’s subjugates on the subject—he couldn’t remember which—but he hadn’t been keen on answering.

And now he knew.

It felt _disgusting_. Maybe it felt different to Izzy, since she didn’t seem to flinch at the sight of Simon the next morning, and instead sprinting off to him when the Angel had vanished and Simon had collapsed to his knees. But to him, it felt disgusting. He made a low growling sound in his throat and with all he had, he pushed Maureen off and leapt to his feet, snatching the seraph blade. Maureen wept.

Alec felt a little dizzy from the blood-loss, the world whirling and the colors swirling around. Maureen was doing something in the dark. He couldn’t figure out what she was doing—but he knew what he was doing. He straightened his back, looming over Maureen’s small body, a seraph blade in hand. He could feel it vibrating against his skin. He brought it down, as hard as he could, the same way he’d cut Camille free the night Jace disappeared—the biggest mistake of his life…

But when he did, Maureen wasn’t there.

He blinked, slowly coming to his senses. He was glad for the fact that Shadowhunters healed fast—not as fast as vampires or werewolves, but faster than mundanes. Now, where _was_ Maureen?

A sharp cry sounded behind him. He turned around, just in time to dodge aside from Maureen’s attack. Her wrists were bleeding. Alec didn’t remember cutting them. Weird. But before Alec had the time to ponder, Maureen was rushing after him, shrieking in a shrill voice. He ducked, spun, and pushed off the wall and into the air. He sprang toward her just as she dived and their body collided midair, falling to the cold, hard ground in a tangle of limbs and blood. She raked her nails over his chest, blood dripping down, and he pulled her off him, grabbed her by the neck and smashed her to the wall behind him, the tip of his seraph blade scraping her neck.

“Any last word?” His voice came out icy and unkind. Maureen seemed to hide a wince, and for a moment he wondered if he’d been too hard on her. Her smile was proud and arrogant.

“I’ve got a message for you, actually,” she sneered. “I forgot to tell you. It’s from Camille.”

He felt his body tense. Maureen grinned with triumph. “What is it?” He tightened her grip on Maureen’s neck. He knew it was pointless; Maureen was a vampire, she didn’t need to breathe. “She told me to tell you that Will Herondale was much better than you—in bed _and_ in Shadowhunting,” Maureen’s lips quivered, her smirk smug. Alec tried to absorb the information, his breathing coming a little ragged. Will _Herondale_? Will _was_ a Herondale? Is that why Magnus told him Jace was a lot more like Will than he was? Because they were blood? But if they were related, why didn't Jace look like him? Why was he the one who was born with blue eyes and black hair? “And that his eyes were much prettier than yours.”

This could be a trap. Maureen could be lying. But how was she supposed to know why he was interested in finding out about who Will really was? His expression was grim as he pressed on Amriel with a little force, drawing out blood from where he’d cut the skin open. Maureen let out a pained yelp, vampire blood dripping to her clothes. “That’s not all,” Maureen bit out. She had blonde hair which reminded him painfully of Camille. “There’s one more,” her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. “She knew of Magnus’ biological father.”

Alec drove the blade deeper. Maureen squeaked, clearly hurt, but she was smiling through the pain. Would this count as a torture? What he was doing—was he _torturing_ a child? But Maureen spoke again, interjecting his thought. “Alec Lightwood,” she said in that little girly voice of her, sounding sweet as candies in his ears. “I promise I will tell you—once you let me go, I will.” Maureen would not tell him—Alec knew that. Vampires weren’t like the Fair Folk. They were liars, they could lie. But temptation was too overwhelming. He was surprised to find himself loosening his grip on her. Maureen wobbled on her feet.

Her eyes flashed.

And then she was on him, pressing her bleeding wrists to his mouth.

Now Alec knew who had cut her wrists. It wasn’t him; Maureen had cut them herself. And he knew exactly why.

It was as if she could hear Camille cackling in his ears, taunting him. _Foolish, foolish Shadowhunter. Isn’t this what you want? To be immortal, to be with Magnus forever? Forever is a long time, my dear. Are you sure he wants to spend it with you_?

Maureen’s blood dribbled down his chin. _I want to be with him forever. But not like this. Never like this_.

* * *

 Maureen let out a shout as her back hit the wall. Alec’s seraph blade was flush against her neck again. She didn’t feel cold, not anymore. Vampires didn’t get cold. But Alec’s blade was cold against her skin as he glided it along the pale skin, painstakingly slow.

“Lucifer,” she blurted out from her sitting position. Alec looked unaffected. Or, at least, he tried to. He was doing a good job at feigning his emotions.

“Lucifer is Magnus’ biological father,” she spat. “Whoever he is. I don’t like his name, it’s weird.”

Alec sucked in a shuddering breath. Maureen had forgotten how it felt like to breathe. Alec’s expression hardened as he knelt down in front of her, and Maureen saw that his eyes had turned cold. Their usual bright blue had turned a few shades darker. He bent down, and beheaded her.

* * *

Alec came home and went straight to his room. He ignored his mom and his father and Isabelle and Jace and everyone and didn’t come out to have dinner. He stripped to his boxers and jumped in the shower, standing under the spray of hot water until the water had turned cold and his skin had begun wrinkling. He looked down at his hands. The Seelie Queen’s words echoed in his head like a broken tape. _How swift mortal loveliness does fade. Look at yourself, Alexander Lightwood. I give you a glimpse of yourself in a mere threescore years. What will your warlock lover say then of your beauty?_

Warlock lover. He choked out a humorless laugh. _Not anymore_.

He stepped out of the shower and dried himself. He stared at his reflection on the mirror. Scars and runes were carved into his skin. Two neat puncture wounds were dark against his neck. He didn’t apply an iratze; he planned on healing like a mundane. He hid Magnus’ now bloodied shirt under his bed, retrieving Magnus' blue scarf from under it and changed into a pair of clean boxers. He climbed to bed. His bed was queen-sized, the comforter black, the pillow white. He slept on the left side, clinging to the scarf which still had Magnus' faint smell and hoped this was all a dream.

* * *

**Isabelle Lightwood**  
Alec came home looking upset. Do you know why?

**Magnus Bane**  
Maybe he found out that he really was bitten by a gay spider.

**Isabelle Lightwood**  
Not funny, Magnus. Did you have a fight?

**Isabelle Lightwood**  
Ignoring my text now? Real mature.

**Isabelle Lightwood**  
I could call Simon and ask him to drain Chairman Meow’s blood.

**Isabelle Lightwood**  
And I would. He’d do anything for me.

**Magnus Bane**  
For Clary, you mean.

**Isabelle Lightwood**  
Shut up and answer my question.

**Isabelle Lightwood**  
Did you break my brother’s heart?

**Isabelle Lightwood**  
I could hear him crying through the walls. What have YOU done?

**Magnus Bane**  
Maybe you should ask him what HE has done.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I was totally making up the part about Lucifer being Magnus’ dad. I haven’t read The Bane Chronicles, haven’t got money to purchase it, but from what I gather on Tumblr, most people seem to assume that Lucifer is Magnus’ dad. So, yeah. I do hope Cassie will clarify it though—in CoHF, maybe. (and no, I don’t want to talk about how 1/2 of Malec will likely to die. Nope.) Thank you for reading. I really love you guys. 
> 
> Thoughts?


End file.
